


Something That Makes Him Human

by SherlockedWitch



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A surprise actual storyline besides the whole wetting thing (though quite a bit of that too), Bladder shyness, Desperation, Gen, Omorashi, Paruresis, Wetting, multi-chaptered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:34:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockedWitch/pseuds/SherlockedWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John fly to New York to help a friend of Lestrade solve a series of puzzling murders. On the way, John finds out quite an embarrassing secret of Sherlock's, which leads to a rather embarrassing event for the detective. With John now knowing about Sherlock's problem with Paruresis, will he bare witness to any more incidents? And is this the most complex case that the duo has ever consulted on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Plane Ride

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I'm rubbish at summaries. Secondly, this story contains an individual wetting themselves. Don't like that kind of thing? Don't read this story. However, there IS an actual plot to this in addition to the omorashi. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I'm currently working on the second chapter now, and hope to have it posted soon.

Sherlock didn’t necessarily hate flights. To be specific, he hated _long_ flights. And unfortunately for him, he was currently on one. By some standards it wasn’t actually too long; it was only eight and a half hours, but for Sherlock it was on the brink of being a much too prolonged level of time.

Sherlock and John were flying to the United States, New York to be exact, for a case. John didn’t approve of the idea at first, complaining amount the uncertain amount of time away from London. Not to mention that neither of them had ever actually been to the States before. However, Lestrade had been the one to call Sherlock up about the New York City murder. Lestrade had a detective friend in New York, who happened to be working upon what the newspapers were labeling ‘The Most Infuriatingly Difficult Killings to Solve in a Century.” The detective had called up the DI at Scotland Yard, begging for help as the entire NYPD was stumped. Lestrade by no means had the money or the time to run off to New York, but he knew someone who did. Sherlock Holmes. He’d put the consulting detective in contact with the desperate man, and within two days he and John were on a plane bound for the east coast.

They were about six and a half hours into the flight when Sherlock began to notice a problem. Not one that was obvious to anyone else, but it was one that was all too tale tell for him. Sitting in his seat, fiddling with his phone, he had felt the first bit of pressure beginning to reside in his lower abdomen. He mentally cursed; how? He’d been careful. Refusing to drink for the entire flight, going to the loo barely two minutes before they left the flat. Apparently it hadn’t done as much good as he had hoped it would. Swallowing, Sherlock suppressed a sigh. There was nothing he could do about it. Not until he reached their hotel. This was only two and a half hours away, if you factored in the ride from the airport. Give or take a few minutes. He went back to glancing at the lit up screen on his phone, vowing to do his best to be distracted for as long as he could manage.

Another hour slowly went by, Sherlock now both a bit bored and getting slightly desperate. Hyper aware that John was sitting right next to him he did his best not to shift around. However, he couldn’t help pressing his thighs together as his bladder pressed at him more urgently. He glanced over at the door to the bathroom which was a few seats a way, longing to be able to use it. Although, he knew it wouldn’t work. Sherlock looked away reluctantly, trying to reassure himself that he could make it. It wasn’t that long of a wait now.

Despite Sherlock’s attempts to be discreet, a few minutes later John picked up on the other man’s restless movements. He glanced away from where he had been looking out the window, instead turning his gaze to the detective sitting tensely next to him. He narrowed his eyes.

“The loo’s free, you know.” John murmured, picking up a book he had cast aside earlier.

Sherlock’s face colored slightly, a bit embarrassed at having been found out. He didn’t need John knowing about his predicament. “Why are you telling me?” he muttered, feigning innocence.

“Sherlock, can you see yourself? I’ve never seen anyone that tense.” John pointed out.

“Yeah, well... It’s fine.” Sherlock replied tersely, staring at his phone and trying to relax at the same time to prove his point.

John gave Sherlock an incredulous look. What was up with him? “Why won’t you just go?” he inquired. The other man clearly was in an increasingly bad state.

Sherlock mentally cursed again. “I said it was fine, okay?” He sighed, not really giving an answer. He avoided looking at John, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to end. Talking about his need did nothing to help alleviate it.

John sighed exasperatedly. “What? Is Sherlock Holmes so much better than everyone else that he can’t use a public loo?” He mocked, not understanding what was going on.

Sherlock clenched his teeth together, annoyance panging through his chest. “No, that’s not it.” He snapped.

“Then what is it?” John demanded.

Sherlock hesitated. “I can’t.” He finally mumbled quietly, fiddling with his hands.

John now looked puzzled, still not understanding. “What do you mean you can’t?” He retorted in confusion, now full on facing the detective.

Sherlock sighed quietly, struggling not to squirm. His need seemed to be growing rapidly worse by the minute now. “I just can’t, okay?” He muttered, desperate not to have to explain.

Now it was John’s turn to sigh. “Sherlock, explain.” He pleaded, confusion written all over his face.

Sherlock hesitated further this time. “I just physically…can’t. I freeze up…” He mumbled embarrassedly, feeling horribly awkward.

John’s expression suddenly melted into one of understanding. “Oh,” He said, surprised, “You really…can’t.”

Sherlock reluctantly nodded, his face tinged to a rather pinkish color. John leaned back in his seat, still glancing at Sherlock. He hadn’t been expecting something like that. The army doctor tried to think through the situation, glancing at his watch. They still had around another forty five minutes or so before they even landed. He turned back to Sherlock.

“Well…do you think you can at least try?” John asked softly. Going by the amount of struggling Sherlock was obviously doing to keep still; he knew that the other man truly needed relief.

Sherlock sighed, glancing around at the other seats. Which, of course, were occupied by quite a number of different people. He shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. There’re too many people.” Sherlock mumbled.

John bit his lip slightly for a moment, glancing around as well. In all honesty, he felt a bit bad for Sherlock now. “You need to at least try, please. I know it can’t be easy, but please? I don’t like seeing you like this.” John told the detective.

Sherlock contemplated it, bouncing his knee up and down nervously. Trying never worked for him. He’d been like this for as long as he could remember. He’d just never been able to easily go someplace away from home, especially in these types of situations. However, he was unbearably desperate at the moment. His bladder was urgently nudging at him constantly now, not approving of his resistance to letting it release. He glanced at the empty bathroom. “Okay, fine…” he mumbled, sighing softly.

John nodded. “Alright, go on then.” He said, turning back to the book in his hand so as not to make Sherlock feel as if he were watching him.

Sherlock carefully got up, wincing slightly as gravity weighed on his overly full bladder. Once he was sure that he was okay to walk, he strode over to the loo, repeatedly telling himself that no one was watching him. Once inside he shut and locked the door, dropping a bit of his mask and fidgeting in place. The presence of the toilet in front of him just made things that much worse. Sherlock awkwardly pressed his legs together as he unzipped his trousers. Despite the immensely increased feeling of desperation, the moment Sherlock aimed to let go, everything stopped. The taller man grimaced, frustrated by his body. He gingerly pressed on his bladder in a last effort attempt to get himself to go, but it only managed to cause pain instead of a stream. It was useless. He was too aware of the people outside of the door, his ears too tuned in to their mindless chatter. He couldn’t go here. He just couldn’t.

Biting his lip, Sherlock zipped himself back up. He reluctantly exited the bathroom, walking tensely back over to his seat and sitting down. John looked up, took one look at Sherlock’s stature, and knew the other man hadn’t been able to go. He sighed quietly.

“Nothing?” John muttered in question, just to be sure.

Sherlock shook his head slightly. John glanced around once more, but shrugged. There wasn’t much that could be done.

“Well…damn.” The doctor mumbled, not knowing what else to say. The both of them were aware of the situation, so there was no need to really try and say anything else. John went back to his book, while Sherlock returned to fiddling with his phone. He checked the time, noting that they were now thirty minutes from their destination. Thirty minutes. It didn’t sound overly long; however, it wasn’t as if he could simply go at the airport. There would be even more people than on the plane. Therefore, you had to factor in however long it took to get to the hotel and such. Sherlock bit his cheek, forcing himself to believe that he was perfectly capable of managing it, despite the already pressingly full state of his bladder.

The last portion of the plane ride had been just as horrid as Sherlock had imagined. His desperation could do nothing but increase, so by the time they landed he was in pure agony. The entire time he had been telling himself he could hold it, that he was in control; but now, he seriously doubted his own ability to do so. John had been sending him looks every few minutes, most of them of sympathy. The army doctor reassured him a couple of times that he’d be fine, and also suggested once again that he try and go again, but they both knew that it just wasn’t happening.

Sherlock walked tensely as they got off of the plane, John walking behind him. Gravity weighed heavily on him, and all he could think of was the sweet relief he desperately needed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t coming near as quickly as he would have liked. He was still forced to go through standard airport procedure, and to face the agonizingly large crowds. Another fifteen minutes went by as they went through the airport. By this time John was almost constantly watching him, truly worried for the other man. He’d never seen the detective like this. Sherlock was struggling to keep his movements under control, but he was fidgeting around a lot despite his efforts. He couldn’t help it. Not doing so would surely result in his loss of control.

They finally were able to grab their luggage, and begin to make their way out of the airport. Sherlock’s pace was at times fast, and at times slower. On one hand he wanted to hurry up and yet, on another, walking too quickly resulting in more jostling of his bladder. He grimaced slightly as they walked, his abdomen pressing harshly against the waistband of his trousers. John took notice of the look on the detective’s face and stopped him.

“Sherlock…do think you could try and go here at the airport? I know, I know,” he added at the look on the other man’s face, “It’s just… to be honest with you, there is no way in hell you are going to make it to the hotel.” He stated. He didn’t like saying it, but it was the absolute truth.

Sherlock sighed quietly, doing a slight side to side dance as the stood in the wide hallway. He hated to admit it, but John was right. Waiting meant embarrassment. However, the airport bathroom meant struggling helplessly. Yet…he at least had a slight chance this way. “Okay, fine, find a bathroom.” He muttered quietly, giving in.

John nodded, quickly glancing around. He couldn’t see one really near them, but over the numerous people travelling down the hallway he spotted a sign pointing to one being around the corner and down into another area. ”Okay, come on.” He instructed, gesturing for Sherlock to follow him as he began walking again. Sherlock did so, his stomach in a nervous knot as he fought against everything his body was telling him to do.

They made it around the corner and a few paces before Sherlock slowed down quite a bit, almost completely stopping. John sensed the other man’s lack of movement, and turned to him, slowing down himself. John frowned at the sight of his friend. Sherlock was partially doubled over, his legs pressed tightly together, and his face contorted a bit in pain.

“Sherlock...” John breathed helplessly, “Come on. You can do this.” He encouraged.

Sherlock couldn’t speak, didn’t even try to. All his effort was being put into holding it all in. His bladder contracting harshly and he gripped at his thigh, trying not to grab at his crotch. He tried to begin walking again, but it ended up hurting him more than helping. More plainly, it ended up being his undoing.

John could see the exact moment it happened. Sherlock’s entire face went completely red, and the frantic last effort attempt to stay in control flashed through his eyes. Nothing worked, however. He’d held it for much too long. Sherlock felt his stomach drop as urine began to seep out of him a bit slowly for the first moment, before turning into a full-fledged stream. It dampened his pants quickly, immediately starting to hit his trousers, rivulets traveling quickly down his legs. He stayed bent over, but he wasn’t as tense as before. Sherlock found he couldn’t enjoy the relief as his bladder emptied its contents unwillingly. He was much too mortified.

John sighed quietly to himself, watching in horror as Sherlock lost entire control. He glanced down, seeing the small puddle forming around the consulting detective’s feet. He’d never seen Sherlock look so defeated, or so…human. People passing them slowed down and stared, clearly noticing what was taking place. It was Sherlock’s worst nightmare. It seemed to take ages for him to finish, and when he did his trousers were almost completely soaked. They were of a darker color, but it was still rather noticeable. He glanced over at John slightly, looking as if he’d just committed a murder.

Hyper aware of the people staring at them, John motioned for Sherlock to follow him. “Come on.” He mumbled quietly, not wanting to say much else with the others around them. Sherlock sheepishly followed after John, keeping his gaze down. The doctor led them to the bathroom they had previously been heading to. Thankfully there were only a couple of people in this one.

John turned to Sherlock, giving him a sad smile. The other two men were finishing up, and washing their hands, not paying attention to them. John began rummaging through one of their bags that he had been carrying. Sherlock easily figured out that the other man was getting clothes for him to change into.

The other men left, and a moment later John came up with some clothing items for Sherlock. “Here,” He said, handing them to the still embarrassed looking man, “Look, Sherlock, it’s okay. It was just an accident. They happen.” He reassured him. Sherlock sighed quietly, merely nodding. John had expected that as an answer, and knew that Sherlock didn’t want to talk about it, so he moved on.

“Go change,” John gestured to a stall, “You can take a shower when we get to the hotel.” He murmured.

Sherlock nodded once again, wordlessly taking the clothes and entering the stall. He hated this so much. These things weren’t supposed to happen to him. He was a grown man; he shouldn’t be having _accidents._ Sherlock shook his head, resolving to simply not talk about this incident with John. The other man already knew now about his bladder shyness, so there was no reason to discuss what had just taken place. Sherlock stripped off the wet clothes in disgust, changing into the clean ones.

John leaned against the wall, waiting for Sherlock. When the other man finished up and came out he put the wet clothes in a bag, before they both walked out.

The ride in the taxi was mostly silent, Sherlock trying to pretend as if nothing had ever happened. The arrived at their hotel and checked in, going up to their room. After sitting their stuff down Sherlock immediately headed for the bathroom, going to take a shower. He felt disgusting.

John shook his head as the other man disappeared, not sure what to think about the event that had taken place. It was definitely something new. Oh, well. Tomorrow Sherlock was to start working on the case they had traveled for, and he’d surely be distracted from what happened then. With that thought, John pushed the incident to the back of his mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! I hope you enjoy it. It would have been done sooner, but I've been rather busy.

The rest of the evening passed fairly smoothly. There was no further mention of the incident at the airport, for which Sherlock was grateful. By the time they went to sleep a short while after arriving, both of the men’s moods had seemed to thankfully return to almost normal.

The next morning Sherlock woke to the sound of his phone ringing. He groaned quietly, rolling over and fumbling for the buzzing mobile on the bedside table. He cleared his throat, blinking to try and wake up a bit more as he answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Holmes?” The male voice on the other end inquired.

“Yes, this is him.”

“I’m Jeff Kennan, with the New York Police Department. We spoke on the phone a couple of days ago.”

Sherlock was nearly instantly wide awake, and he abruptly sat up. _Oh, of course._

“Yes, we did.”

“You arrived here in New York yesterday, correct?”

“Correct.”

_Get to the point..._ Sherlock thought.

“Excellent. Would you and…” A sound of paper rustling slightly could be heard through the phone. “..Dr. Watson be willing to meet me at the station at nine?”

Sherlock glanced at the clock on the table. 7:35 A.M.

“Yes, of course. We’ll meet you there.”

“Great. See you then.” With this parting, Jeff hung up the phone.

Well, the other man was definitely straightforward, once he got to the point. Not a man of many words. Though, Sherlock had gotten both impressions during their first, slightly longer conversation. Jeff Kennan was the lead detective in the case Sherlock was to be consulting on. So, obviously, they were required to communicate to an extent.

Sherlock glanced over at the second bed in the room where John was currently beginning to wake up. He must have heard him on the phone, then. Sherlock yawned, pulling back the covers and climbing out of bed.

“We have to be at the station by nine. Get up.” Sherlock wasn’t exactly one for simple ‘good morning’s’.

“Hmm...what..?” John mumbled his voice thick with sleep as he rolled over.

Sherlock sighed. “You need to get up. We have to leave soon.”

“Oh…okay.” John gave a sigh of his own, sitting up in bed.

Satisfied that John was now awake, Sherlock walked over to his suitcase to retrieve clothes and such for the day.

After both men had showered and gotten dressed, they went down to the café area in their hotel for breakfast. It was 8:10 by now, but they were only about fifteen minutes or so from the police station. Nevertheless, the two men ate fairly quickly. They left after finishing, hailing a cab within a couple of minutes. They shared minimal conversation during the ride, given that Sherlock had already found the time at a previous date to fill John in on the details of the case that he had. So, mostly, they sat in silence.

Unknowingly, both men remembered the incident from the day before during this particular cab ride. Sherlock thought of the embarrassing occurrence after mentally double checking that he had used the toilet before leaving the hotel. The detective fought off a blush at the memory, forcing it to the back of his mind as best he could. Having dealt with this ‘problem’ for his entire life, he had made himself accustomed to usually being able to wait until he was alone and at home before reaching the sort of point he had come to yesterday. Though, working on cases made for unpredictable amounts of time out and about. He tried not to worry about the matter too much; he’d be fine, seeing as he normally was. Also, he’d thankfully found throughout life that relieving himself in hotel rooms was manageable enough. They couldn’t be at the station for more than a few hours, and he was perfectly capable of waiting through that and then getting to the hotel. Besides, he didn’t even have to go yet, so why was he worrying? With this thought, Sherlock went back to focusing on the case.

John thought of the event from the previous day, and wondered slightly to himself. With Sherlock having this sort of problem, it had to be an everyday difficulty for the other man. He worried for a moment whether there might be a repeat incident today, but he dismissed the thought swiftly. Despite his shyness, Sherlock was a grown man. John had known the man for years and he’d never seen him have an accident until yesterday. The doctor shook his head; there was no use currently worrying over something that wasn’t even a problem yet, or might not even be one today. This ended John’s thoughts on the matter as they pulled up in front of the police department.

Sherlock climbed out of the cab, and after paying the driver John quickly followed. They walked into the building together, and Sherlock checked the time. 8:55. They were right on time, then. John led them over to a secretary at the front desk.

“Can I help you?” The lady smiled politely.

“We’re looking for Jeff Kennan. He’s expecting us.” Sherlock stated.

The woman nodded, and pointed them in the direction of the man’s office. John thanked the lady, and after winding through a couple of halls they reached their destination. Jeff spotted them in the doorway of his office and motioned for them to come in.

“Hello! It’s nice to finally meet you both in person.” He greeted, gesturing for the two men to sit down as they walked in. Sherlock and John obliged, both taking a seat.

“You too,” John replied, knowing better than to expect Sherlock to make a polite greeting. He did at times, but those seemed to be rather rare occurrences.

“Well…where would you like to begin?” Jeff asked after a second. “I know that Lestrade has informed you of the majority of the case, correct?”

“Yes, he has,” Sherlock answered, “Though I’d like to see the case files, as he most likely didn’t care to mention every detail.”

Jeff laughed slightly, nodding a bit. “One second…ah, here they are.” He picked up four files from the corner of his desk, passing them over to Sherlock. Sherlock handed two of them to John, beginning to look through the remaining two himself. John did the same with his files.

“As you know, we haven’t had much to go on. The only thing even linking these murders is the use of torture, and the cause of death.” Jeff talked as the two other men looked over the files.

Most of the details Sherlock already knew. There had been four murders so far. Three women, one man. All of them were tied up and tortured for approximately an hour before death by decapitation. The first victim, a woman, had been killed in her apartment. The murderer had broken in, though hadn’t taken anything. She was tortured by having both of her shoulders broken forcefully, which was peculiar, to say the least. It seemed to be a personal crime, then.

John and Sherlock proceeded to go through the files, talking with the detective across from them as they did so. Jeff gave them any information that wasn’t in the files, and they occasionally asked questions. They theorized, finding that there was hardly any evidence at all that would point to a killer linked to all of these victims. Though, they all agreed that it had to be the same man or woman who committed all the murders. The files weren’t successfully scrutinized until about two hours later.

Sherlock glanced up after closing a file. “The knives used to perform all of the decapitations were left at each scene?”

“Yes, they were. Rather odd. Murder weapons aren’t usually left behind.” Jeff responded.

“I’d like to see them.”

“Alright,” Jeff nodded. “I’ll take you two to the evidence room, then.” He stood up.

Sherlock and John closed the files, standing up as well. Sherlock decided that they should take the files with them, so he picked them up. Jeff led them out and down another series of halls. As they reached the evidence room, Sherlock felt a slight pressure beginning to build in his lower abdomen. It wasn’t anything to worry about yet; it was hardly even there. However, he mentally cursed. Normally he would have been able to go longer without feel the first signs of a need to go, but Jeff had given them a couple cups of coffee as they had talked. Paring that with the one he had already had at breakfast, Sherlock had consumed more than he normally would have allowed himself. As he said, however; it wasn’t anything to worry about yet. With that thought, Sherlock pushed the pressure to the back of his mind a bit.

They all entered the evidence room, and Jeff went down a row of cabinets to retrieve the knives. Sherlock and John stood at a table while he did this.

“So, this case…rather intriguing, don’t you think?” John spoke. By intriguing he meant both interesting and difficult. Though, if it weren’t difficult, they wouldn’t be there.

“Yes, quite.” Sherlock nodded in response. He might have said something else, but Jeff reappeared just then with four occupied evidence bags in hand.

“These are the knives. They’re all nearly the same size, but different brands. Except for the last two; they actually are the same brand.” Jeff stated, laying the bags out on the table and indicating what he was talking about.

Sherlock peered at the knives, finding that Jeff was correct. They were all nearly identical in height and width. The two knives from the first two murders both had different brands. However, the last two knives used were the same brand; Victorinox.

“Perhaps when he used the Victorinox knife to kill the third victim he found that it worked well. He found a brand he liked.” Sherlock replied.

“That’s the most probable explanation.” Jeff said in agreement.

“It couldn’t be that the killer just happened to have two knives of the same brand?” John questioned.

Sherlock shook his head. “No, each one of these is new. They’ve never been used; except to kill a person. And _only_ a single person; they didn’t reuse the knife.” He deduced all of these as he carefully examined each knife, holding them up the light. John made a noise of understanding, nodding a bit in response.

After a while, Sherlock looked up from the knives. “Would you mind if we looked at the other evidence collected as well?” He questioned Jeff.

“Not a problem. Do you want all of it at once, or…?”

“Just bring the things from the first crime scene out first. We’ll start there.”

“Alright,” Jeff nodded, disappearing back into one of the rows.

While he was gone, Sherlock once again became aware of the signals his bladder was sending him. His need had increased a bit now. He suppressed a sigh; the last thing he needed to be focusing on was the copious amount of liquid running through his system. It didn’t help either that the process was speeded up a bit; the caffeine in coffee was a natural diuretic. He once again forced himself to try and focus on the task at hand as Jeff returned a couple of minutes later with evidence bags from the first crime scene.

Jeff sat the bags down on the table, and Sherlock began sorting through them. Feeling unable to really help whenever Sherlock examined evidence, John sat down in a nearby chair and picked up one of the case files they had brought. He had chosen the one on the first murder, given that that was the one they were starting with.

It fell silent as Sherlock seemed to absorb himself in the act of thoroughly looking over the items. Jeff glanced at his phone, and spoke after a moment.

“Would you mind if I leave you two alone for a bit? There’s been a tip in another case I’m working on.”

“That’s fine.” Sherlock murmured without looking up, and John nodded in agreement.

“Great. I shouldn’t be too long.” Jeff said, heading for the door and exiting the room.

It went silent again after Jeff left, with Sherlock pouring over the items in front of him as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. John continued to look over the files once more, figuring it couldn’t hurt. Plus, he really had nothing else to focus on. There wasn’t much he could do to help Sherlock at the moment.

Jeff’s “I shouldn’t be gone too long” didn’t seem to be true as more time went on, but it didn’t really bother Sherlock. An hour came and went. Sherlock had now taken to jotting down small notes about certain observations he was making. However, it was becoming increasingly hard to concentrate. His small need had now grown into a fairly urgent one. He could no longer ignore it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it, either. Not with his shyness. He didn’t even know where the bathrooms _were_ in this place, which complicated matters even further.

Sherlock was sufficiently desperate, though he did his best not to show any outwards signs of it. After yesterday, the last thing he wanted was for John to know when he needed the bathroom. Standing perfectly still was rather impossible, however; so Sherlock ended up shifting on his feet a bit as he worked, occasionally pressing his legs together. He tried to be as subtle as possible in his movements.

John barely took notice of the movements Sherlock was making at first, not thinking anything about it. However, after another ten minutes or so he properly looked up. That was when he took further notice of the consulting detective’s slightly odd behavior. He furrowed his brows slightly. Sherlock looked quite uncomfortable. At first, John couldn’t figure out why. Observing the detective for another moment, however, he thought that he might have an idea of what it might be. He hoped he was wrong, but it didn’t look as if he were. Sherlock looked as uncomfortable as he had the day before on the plane; and John really didn’t want a repeat of the same outcome.

John hesitated, before speaking after a moment. “Sherlock, uh…are you okay?” He questioned, not wanting to be blunt.

Sherlock mentally cursed, instinctively trying to be still and act as if nothing was amiss. “Yes, I’m fine.” He replied shortly, not glancing up from the table.

John didn’t believe him at all, and he now felt quite sure that his observation was correct. Sherlock needed the loo. He sighed quietly. This was a bit awkward, though it was more inconvenient than anything. Not for John so much, but for Sherlock himself. If Sherlock’s bladder shyness was really as bad as it had seemed the day before, then the other man most likely wouldn’t be able to go here. No, they’d have to go back to the hotel. He hadn’t noticed any signs of Sherlock having problems in their hotel room, so that seemed the most logical decision. However, he had to first get Sherlock to admit he needed to go. And secondly…if they left, they would need to tell Jeff. Jeff was who knows where at the moment, though.

Sherlock himself was becoming aware that he might not be able to wait this out for any great length of time. He needed to go rather urgently, and getting to a bathroom soon was a priority. He shifted once again despite attempting to be still.

John noted the movement and decided to speak again. “Sherlock, are you sure you’re alright?”

Sherlock could almost hear a knowing tone in the other man’s voice. Logically, he knew he should admit his problem. However, he was quite embarrassed to do so. “I’m fine.” He muttered insistently, though his fidgeting said otherwise.

John gave him a look. “You don’t seem fine to me.” He said, trying to be patient.

Sherlock sighed quietly. “It’s nothing, okay?” He was becoming increasingly less convincing, and he was well aware of it.

“I know you’re lying, Sherlock,” John stated, and he pressed on gently, “And I don’t think either of us wants a repeat of yesterday…so, just admit the problem, and we can figure out what to do.”

A faint blush crossed Sherlock’s face and he swallowed quietly. He hesitated, but reluctantly gave in after a moment. There was nothing else he could do. “Fine, I need to…go.” He mumbled almost inaudibly.

John simply nodded. “Well, I don’t suppose you could try going here?” He asked just for confirmation.

Sherlock shook his head, the mere thought giving him anxiety.

“Okay, so we need to go back to the hotel, then. We need to tell Jeff…” John thought for a moment. It didn’t look like the man was coming back soon; and even if he did, he wasn’t sure they should waste the time. Sherlock looked desperate enough as it was. “We can leave a note for him, or something. Tell him we’re done for the day… that we have another meeting with someone. Does that sound good?”

“It works for me.” Sherlock answered quietly with a slight nod. He was rather grateful for John doing this, though he was still embarrassed.

John nodded in response, taking a piece of paper from the stack Sherlock had been using and scribbling out a note. He finished, sitting the pencil down with the note and turning to the other man. “Okay, let’s go.” He began to walk towards the door.

Sherlock followed after him, trying to ignore the small jolts hitting his overly full bladder. He walked down the halls with John, impatiently wishing that they were just in their hotel room already. He desperately craved relief. Sherlock also hoped that he’d make it; he should, it was just that he had to go so badly… and after yesterday, he didn’t exactly have much confidence in himself. However, he kept telling himself that he’d be fine. They weren’t too far from the hotel; he could wait.

John glanced back at Sherlock a couple of times in slight concern, wanting to make sure that he was doing okay. He seemed to be managing, which was good. John hated seeing Sherlock look this embarrassed or vulnerable. He’d never seen him like this until yesterday, and it was something he had hoped never to see again. He didn’t like Sherlock feeling bad, especially about something like this.

They found their way out of the building a few minutes later, and John led them to the street to hail a cab. As they stood Sherlock shifted in his feet once again, trying, and failing, once again to be subtle. John glanced at his friend again, noting the blush still plastered on his face.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know. It’s okay.” John reassured the other man softly. He was a bit out of his element, but he felt like Sherlock needed to hear this.

“Thanks...” Was Sherlock’s quiet reply as a cab pulled up. The statement made him feel slightly better, though not by much.

The two men climbed into the cab and John gave the driver the address of their hotel. It was only fifteen minutes from here. Surely the detective would be okay, right? John didn’t say anything else, doing his best to spare Sherlock further embarrassment by talking.

As they rode in the cab, Sherlock stared out the window and just focused on controlling himself. He pressed his legs together rather tightly and shifted every minute or so, his bladder weighing down on him heavily. He bit his lip for a second as a particularly strong pang of urgency hit him, and he just barely managed not to grab himself. This cab ride needed to go quickly…

Somehow, Sherlock managed to make it to the hotel. By the time they got there he felt as if he were going to explode; quite literally. John was pleased that they had made it without incident, though he was well aware that Sherlock was in a rather urgent state now. Worried, he quickly paid the driver and climbed out. Sherlock slid out after him, and after making sure he was okay John began to lead them into the hotel. Sherlock couldn’t walk as fast as he would have liked, given that the jolting being done to his bladder with every step wasn’t helping his condition in the slightest. However, he did his best.

They got into the elevator to go up to their floor, and John frowned as Sherlock winced slightly. The other man looked as if he had to go so badly he was in pain. Being a doctor, John knew that holding it that long was entirely unhealthy. He might need to talk to Sherlock later, though he’d rather avoid embarrassing the other man if he could. He shook his head; he’d think about it later. Right now, he needed to make sure Sherlock made it to their room.

Standing still was worse than walking, and Sherlock practically bent over double in desperation as the elevator went up. John frowned further.

“Sherlock…hold on. You can do it, we’re almost there.” He encouraged the other man, hoping that it might help in some way.

Sherlock was blushing madly, but it was mostly due to his current stance, not the encouragements. John was right; they were almost to the room, he thought, as the elevator stopped on their floor.

John stepped out of the elevator first, glancing at Sherlock as the other man managed to follow him. He started to lead the way. Their room was just down this hall, and John went ahead a bit to unlock the door for Sherlock. He dug for the keycard in his pocket for a second before grabbing it, swiping it on the door. He breathed a sigh of relief when it opened without any complications, before turning back to Sherlock.

Sherlock was a couple feet behind John, and he was clearly not doing too well. He’d given up subtly; it was impossible. He was fidgeting quite a bit, tense, and the urgency was clearly in his flushed face. John opened the door wide, and Sherlock went through it as fast as he could manage without losing control. The detective rushed off to the bathroom in the room, grabbing onto himself the moment he shut the door behind him. He bit his lip, fidgeting in front of the toilet as he fumbled to undo his trousers. Sherlock managed it after a moment, and started going not even a second after pulling himself out. He’d just barely made it. The man gave a small sigh of relief as his achingly full bladder emptied forcefully.

John could hear Sherlock relieving himself and he gave another sigh of his own. That had been entirely too close of a call. He shook his head; he knew that Sherlock couldn’t really help the shyness. But the fact that the other man didn’t seem to want to say _anything_ about needing to go, even if it was urgent, was a bit of a different story. It certainly didn’t help matters for the other man. There was no shame in needing to go to the loo, and you shouldn’t wait so long before attempting to get to one. This wasn’t something John should need to explain to his flatmate, but apparently it might be necessary if this was a reoccurring thing. He sighed, going to sit down on his bed.

Sherlock finished up in the bathroom a minute or so later and he quietly came out. The embarrassment he had had still lingered as he entered the room and sat down on his own bed.

“Are you better now?” John asked.

Sherlock fought off another blush, nodding his head.

“Look, Sherlock…” John rubbed his neck slightly, “Like I said; you don’t have to embarrassed about this kind of thing. I mean it.” He said, hoping he was getting the point across.

“Okay…thank you.” Sherlock muttered, trying his best to listen to the other man. It wasn’t easy, however. He was dying to change the subject now. “Can we just…talk about something other than what just happened?” He requested.

John nodded. “Of course.” He paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. “You want to go down and get some lunch?” Sherlock might not eat, but John was rather hungry.

Longing for the distraction and a sense of normalcy, Sherlock nodded. “Sure.” He replied, standing up.

John, thankful that the other man had agreed, smiled a bit and stood up as well. This time Sherlock led them out the door, as he once again tried to put an embarrassing incident behind him.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
